


Late

by yeaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crying, Dry Humping, Ficlet, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 11:32:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5742151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus’ situation forces out a secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpesAbrin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpesAbrin/gifts).



> A/N: Happy belated birthday, my darling SpesAbrin! ♥
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He sits on the stairs to wait, because it’s the closest he can get without having to stand by his mother’s painting. He’s there for a little over half an hour when the knock finally comes—small, quiet, trying not to wake the other occupants of the house. Kreacher’s off doing Merlin-knows-what, and Sirius leaps to his feet. He’s got the door open a heartbeat later, Remus out on the cold doorstep, halo-ed by streetlamps in the dark evening light. He smiles at Sirius.

Sirius can hardly retain his own grin, and he ushers Remus quickly inside. Remus knows him so well. Remus’ eyes glitter with life, only one briefcase in hand, and he waits until he’s down the hall and far from the painting before he stops, taking in a deep breath. 

“Where’re the rest of your things?” Sirius asks, ready to go back for them. But Remus winces and shrugs.

“This is it.” Sirius’ face drops—there should be more than that, Remus had _all these years_ to live and thrive—he shouldn’t look as haggard and ruined as Sirius is. But Sirius was a prisoner behind bars, Remus in his own skin. Remus sees Sirius’ expression and says, for the hundredth time, “Thank you for letting me stay.”

Every time, Sirius says, “It’s no trouble, really.” He’s giddy on the inside, only kept down by the grimness of Remus’ face. It took so much convincing to get him here.

Remus still looks sad. His smiles’ faded, brow scrunched together—everything’s so hard for him. He puts the suitcase down but keeps his long coat on—it’s all he has. Sirius takes a step closer and reaches out to clasp his shoulders, squeeze them lightly and insist, “I _meant it_ , Moony. You have no idea how lonely it’s been here alone; I could use the company.” With a pause and a dip of his head, he adds, “And besides, when we were young, I always hoped it would be this way. I knew James would leave, and who would want to live with Wormtail, but... you were supposed to be with me, you know?”

Remus does look like he knows. The grief stays on his face, but he tries to smile. It looks like he _wants_ to be happy but won’t let himself. He opens his mouth, closes it, shakes his head, then sighs, “It’s more complicated than that now. I’m older, and... things have happened.”

“Don’t worry about them now.” Remus opens his mouth again, but Sirius says louder, “Remy, _it’s fine._ ” Remus’ face twists. He _wants_ to believe it. 

Sirius has the distinct urge to hug him. No one’s ever looked more like they needed a hug. But Sirius has crossed enough boundaries for now and knows he has to keep himself in check—this’ll be harder for him than it is for Remus, but it’s so _worth it_ —he can control himself—he needs Remus in his life. He bends to pick up the suitcase and brushes past Remus, heading up the stairs.

Remus falls into step, like they did in the old days, exploring in their little line with James and Sirius at the head and Remus loyally after, except without Peter slithering behind. They were always the middle. James was Sirius’ world, but Remus was his _everything_.

And now he can guide Remus down his own hall, free of his bitter parents who would’ve _hated_ this so much. He ushers a muggle-born mutt into the room that used to be Regulus’, and he drops the suitcase by the bed. The room still needs cleaning, but Sirius did his best for this. It’s dark, the curtains drawn, the chandelier overhead a little chipped and less elaborate than those in the main parts of the house. Better than the one in Sirius’ room and the spares. Remus looks about it only peripherally. Sirius knows, with a pang of pain, that Remus hasn’t had any better.

Remus still looks like he could break any moment. Then his stomach growls, and it makes Sirius snort and Remus blush—Sirius is ravenous. He wanted to wait so they could eat together. He says, “I’ll go start dinner.”

But when he turns, Remus darts out to catch his sleeve. Sirius looks back, and Remus lets out a shivering breath. He mumbles, a smidgen fearfully, “We need to talk about this.”

Now he really looks like he’s going to cry. It’s bizarre, in a way; Remus is usually sturdier, stronger than this. Sirius doesn’t understand what’s going on, but he steps forward to brush his thumb over Remus’ cheek, brushing away phantom tears and half expecting to pull his hand away wet. He says softly, “It’s alright. I promise, Remus. You can stay here as long as you like, and I’ll do _everything_ I can to take care of you.”

Remus lets out a bitter laugh, shakes his head, and steps away. He mutters, “That’s not it.” Lifting a hand to cover his eyes, he continues, voice cracking, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry—I said I wouldn’t do this, I’m just... really _emotional_ at this time...”

Sirius does a mental double-check. “The full moon’s not for a few days...”

Remus shakes his head again. “It’s not... not that. I... it’s a seasonal thing. When it happens, it’s not... it always happened in the summer, when I was far away from you and you could be... safe... from me...” He pauses to let out a long breath, then looks back at Sirius, eyes imploring. “Sirius, I _want_ to live with you. I really do. But... I’m worried it’s not such a good idea...”

“It’s _fine_.” Sirius is turning cold.

“It’s not.” Maybe at Sirius’ expression, he slumps, seems to wilt, gives up and then mumbles, “Look, can you just... please, can you do something for me?”

Sirius instantly answers, “Anything.” 

“Promise me you’ll lock my room tonight.”

Sirius blinks. It takes him a second to work out that Remus is serious. “You’ve still been getting Wolfsbane...”

“It’s not that. Promise me, please.”

“No.” 

“Sirius, _please_.”

“Why would I?” If it was a question of the wolf, he still wouldn’t—he’d slip in as Padfoot and lie by Remus’ side, but Remus looks close to collapsing and like he needs human arms around him, eyes begging. Sirius just asks again, “Remus, _why_?”

Remus licks his lips. It looks like he doesn’t want to say. But he knows how stubborn Sirius is, and Sirius stands firm, until Remus weakly admits, “So I don’t... go crawling into your bed.”

Sirius doesn’t understand. 

Remus takes another wracked breath and mutters, “I’m going into... into _heat_.” He says it like it’s a dirty word. It stuns Sirius. Remus hugs himself and walks a little ways away, plopping heavily down on the bed so that the old frame creaks. “I’m sorry. I am, it’s just that I always... you’re very attractive, of course,” Remus stops to let out a dry laugh that sounds more sad than anything, while Sirius’ eyebrows rise. “And I always heard the rumours, all the other people you’ve been with. I know how sexual you are—were—I don’t know—and I just—I always heard how _good_ you were, and I already can’t stop myself from thinking... I mean, I’ve always been quiet, patient, good at hiding my feelings, but then this time comes around, and I can barely hold myself together—the smell of you alone is driving me _crazy_ ,” he stops, the last part hissed out, and then he rushes on, going from a snarl to a whimper in a split, tortured second, “Not to mention that I thought I’d lost you forever, spent all those years feeling horrible and betrayed and traitorous myself for loving you anyway, and now here you are, set up and safe, and you’re eating and exercising again and you’ve filled out, look like I remember, so _handsome_ , and I missed you so much, I—” He hangs his head and lifts the back of his hand to his mouth, breath a sob. 

Sirius, through his shock, walks to the bed. 

He slips his hand along Remus’ cheek, cupping it softly, and turns it up to face him. He hardly dares to ask, “You... you have feelings for me?” He can’t believe how late this is in coming, then remembers how much time they lost.

Remus’ hand lifts to cover Sirius’, clenching it. He makes a guttural growling sound, then mutters, more like the wolf he is mid-moon, “I’m _sorry_ , this time just makes me—” He clenches his teeth to stop whatever he was going to say. It’s too late. Sirius glances down, and he can see, even through Remus’ oversized trousers, that he’s _hard_.

“Do you want me to ease you through it?”

Remus’ head shoots up, eyes opening wide. 

Dazed, adoring, and excited all at once, Sirius rephrases, “Would that help? I could—”

“No,” Remus snaps, to Sirius’ immense disappointment, before hurriedly explaining, “I mean, yes, it would help, that’s what it wants—the _sex_ ; _I_ want you—but I didn’t come here to destroy our friendship. You’ve done so much for me already. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable like that, to force you into anything you don’t want for my sake. You’ve already gone through so much...”

Sirius is already bending down. He keeps Remus’ face head tilted just right, his fingertips brushing back into Remus’ honey hair, and he ghosts his lips over Remus’. Remus part in obvious surprise. Sirius pulls back only enough to mutter against them, “ _You_ got me through all that. I thought of you the whole time. Your sweet laugh, your cute smile, the memories of all our teasing conversations and playing with you in the snow over the holidays... you’re so _beautiful_...”

He kisses Remus again, then again, and he can tell that Remus is shocked but he’s stealing the gasp away. He could go on forever about all the things he loves about Remus, but instead he’s stuck with _Remus’ mouth_ ; he spent so long fantasizing about it, and it’s just what he thought—soft, a little wet, hesitant but then fierce, pushing back into him. Remus’ face is warm. Remus has a bit of stubble, not nearly as much as Sirius, but it still scratches, his nose blunt. Sirius strokes Remus’ cheek with his thumb and can feel the ragged scars.

He doesn’t stop until Remus is breathless, less experienced even at this age, and Sirius leans their heads together. “I was going to ask you out, Moony, as soon as we got out of school—you were so worried about your grades—” He pauses to laugh, full of fondness; Remus had _so many worries_ in school, but they always melted away when he was with his fellow marauders. They were a unit. Then they grew up and had no time. “When James went off with Lily, it made me think about my own life, how I wanted to settle down too.”

Remus lunges up, his head knocking hard into Sirius, that harshness a surprise in itself, but Sirius always knew Remus didn’t need the moon to get wolfish. Remus thrusts his tongue right into Sirius’ open mouth, swirls around, licks over Sirius’, gets them both wet with spit and pushes into Sirius, only to stop and growl, “Sorry, it’s the heat, I want you _so much_ I can barely stand it.” This might be the best night of Sirius’ life. He runs his hands back into Remus’ hair, drinking in the raunchy moan it brings, Remus’ lashes fluttering and his cheeks heating. He gasps, “I know we should talk about this, but Merlin, I want you _right now_.”

Sirius never had much ability to go slow. He would’ve tried for Remus. His stomach clenches, still starving, but it doesn’t matter. Sirius is rock hard and Remus is more gorgeous than ever. Sirius shoves his tongue between Remus’ lips and scoops Remus up by the waist, dragging him back into the bed. They have to scramble to get both on, lying the wrong way across, side by side until Sirius rolls on top of Remus to crush him down and _feel_ him everywhere, head to foot. Remus wears too many clothes.

He used to be so _small_ , and he’s still too thin, but Sirius isn’t much bigger and tries to be conscious of not hurting him. Remus doesn’t seem to care. He kisses Sirius over and over, now really _crying_ —Sirius can taste the salt when it gets into the corner of his mouth. 

He lifts up first to tug off his own jacket, tossing it aimlessly aside, then his belt, then he drops to the side so he can scramble at Remus’ overcoat—Remus lets it go, lets Sirius dispose of it, and moans a husky, “ _Sirius_.” Sirius has to kiss him again. Then his shirt’s open, button by button—Sirius probably ripped a few but doesn’t care. Remus is so _irresistible_. He can’t stop _touching_ Remus. He runs his hands everywhere. He feels over Remus’ smooth chest, dotted lightly in brown hair and all scarred down the middle with smaller wounds here and there that Sirius’ lovingly caresses. He traces Remus’ hips and unfastens Remus’ belt, opens Remus’ trousers. Remus is shuddering and wantonly squirming against him, a constant litany of lewd noises, breathless and so beautiful. Sirius humps Remus’ leg like the dog he is, sure he’ll spend himself any minute. He used to be able to go for hours, but now it’s been too long and he’s always wanted Remus and Remus is acting _ravenous_. He kisses Sirius over and over, hands clutching at Sirius’ shoulders, running down his arms, squeezing at his chest, tugging at his hair. Remus’ skin is burning, and it’s setting Sirius’ to boil. Sirius stops stripping Remus to just pull Remus tightly into him, rocking into him, thrusting their clothed cocks together and drinking Remus’ moans. 

It’s so hard to leave Remus’ mouth. But Sirius manages, placing kisses instead on his jaw, his chin, down across his neck—Remus groans and arches up. Sirius spreads his shirt wider and kisses right down his chest, lapping over scars, nuzzling into his naval. Sirius licks his stomach and tugs at the waistband of his trousers. 

The cock that springs out to meet him is wider, longer than he expected, nearly smacking him in the face, fully hard and flushed with want. Sirius takes it in his dry hand and licks up the side, spreading his lips around the tip, then he opens his mouth—

And Remus cries out, hips thrusting up and cock erupting a sudden jet of cum that gets on Sirius’ tongue. He jerks away purely out of surprise, and Remus makes a mess of himself, writhing and moaning while Sirius swallows and wipes off his mouth. The sight of Remus in orgasm is too much—he drops his hand to his crotch and squeezes himself through his trousers, until he comes only a minute or two later, shamefully fast. He’s never spilt himself from so little. But Remus is a _dream_ , and Sirius _loves_ him.

Sirius leans back down to kiss him, Remus limp and breathing hard. 

Remus mumbles a sheepish, “Sorry.” Sirius snorts without meaning to. Remus, blushing brightly, grins too. It feels like they’ll both laugh. Sirius is still ecstatic. 

He rubs his nose against Remus’—an old habit from his dog days—but the shifting rubs his thigh along Remus’ cock, and he realizes with a start that it’s still stiff. He lifts up to look down at it, and Remus mutters, “Sorry, ah... when I’m in heat, I can go for a dozen rounds before I...” He trails off, shrugging his shoulders helplessly.

Sirius whistles. “Wish I could boast that.” Remus slaps him playfully on the shoulder. 

Another kiss, and Sirius, determined, tears himself away. He sits up and pushes off the bed, not bothering to go for a change of pants even though he’s ruined these. Remus lifts up on his elbows, looking worried, and asks, “Where’re you going?”

“To make dinner.” He reaches out a hand and elaborates, “As much as I want to knock out every one of those rounds right now, I’m going to need some food in me to deal with something that vigorous, and I was serious about taking care of you.”

Remus looks that sort of painfully happy where his lips grin but brows draw together. “But you will fuck me after?”

“In the bed? When we retire tonight, yes, but in my own bed like I always fantasized about. First, I’m going to fuck you in the kitchen while our food cooks, then over the dining table, then the living room—” Remus’ laugh saves him from having to list all the surfaces he’s going to claim his beloved Moony over. Remus finally takes the hand, and Sirius pulls him up. 

Sirius helps do up the buttons of Remus’ shirt again—except the two now missing—and then lifts his hands to Remus’ face and wipes away the tearstains. He murmurs, “No more crying,” and kisses either cheek.

Remus smiles like the sun. 

He takes Sirius’ hand and tugs him out the doorway.


End file.
